


in the midnight air (no, i don't sleep)

by colorblindly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study, Chronic Illness, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Phichit Chulanont, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-13 09:23:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorblindly/pseuds/colorblindly
Summary: The first time they meet, he’s in a wheelchair.In the lobby, Viktor keeps glancing at him, the boy in the chair who’s bundled up in a soft blanket and has strangely empty eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice Viktor or the curiosity hidden in Viktor’s gaze, or anything else for that matter. His head is tilted to the side, big brown eyes framed by blue-rimmed glasses.Viktor stares at the slightly faded Pokemon stickers that decorate the other side of the wheelchair, and he wonders.====Their friendship is built on nerdy references, broken wheelchairs and shared love for Japanese food.It also includes bonding over homesickness, going to the ER in the middle of the night and pulling too many all-nighters... And maybe something that is much more than being simply friends.





	1. i've watched your face for a long time

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is partly a gift for my friend who loves viktuuri and college AUs, but it's also my comeback to this fandom. Viktor and Yuuri will forever have my heart <3
> 
> tumblr: [caeruleusastrum](https://caeruleusastrum.tumblr.com)
> 
> the title comes from the song Crazy Something Normal by Donkeyboy

The first time they meet, he’s in a wheelchair.

In the lobby, Viktor keeps glancing at him, the boy in the chair who’s bundled up in a soft blanket and has strangely empty eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice Viktor or the curiosity hidden in Viktor’s gaze, or anything else for that matter. His head is tilted to the side, big brown eyes framed by blue-rimmed glasses.

Viktor stares at the slightly faded Pokemon stickers that decorate the other side of the wheelchair, and he wonders.

====

“I’m changing majors,” Viktor announces, slamming his textbooks onto the table too loudly. The sound echoes in the almost empty library. “Fuck law. I’m going to be a stripper in Las Vegas.”

Christophe only hums, knowing fully well that Viktor’s not serious – just whiny – and continues his game of tetris that is far more interesting. Viktor slumps dramatically on top of his books, an exaggerated sigh leaving his lips.

“You’re coming with me, right?” he asks, gripping Christophe’s arm. “We’d charm people left and right. I know you can pole dance.”

“Mhmm.” Christophe nods, trying to pat Viktor’s head but misses it by a few inches. “Sure thing.”

Realising he won’t get a bigger reaction out of his friend, Viktor pouts.

He can’t focus on his school work anymore, and as the afternoon nears, more students start coming in. Quickly he finds out that observing them is just simply more entertaining than his criminal psychology notes–at that moment Viktor suddenly knows nothing as fascinating as tired students who are probably all running on coffee and energy drinks.

(He’s probably sporting dark circles too, like everyone else. Nothing says _college_ more than throughout exhaustion.)

And it gets even better, because that’s when The Boy In The Chair comes in, too.

Once again, he has a blanket wrapped around him, but today he seems more lively. He’s talking in a quiet voice, eyebrows knitted together as he seems to be explaining something to his friend, who’s pushing the wheelchair. Viktor recognises the friend from the criminal psychology class, but doesn’t remember his name, because he isn’t good with names and such.

So he turns to Christophe, of course, since Christophe knows people and Viktor doesn’t.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Christophe says after sneaking a look over his shoulder. “He’s an art major too. Don’t know about the chair, though, never seen that before. I wonder what happened.” He shrugs before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Viktor doesn’t necessarily like his tone, but he isn’t wrong, either.

Yuuri Katsuki is still talking with his friend, except now it looks a bit more like arguing. He’s almost fully turned around in the chair, the blanket drooping from his shoulders. He runs his hand through his black, messy hair, strands falling onto his face as soon as he lets them go. The friend looks worried, and then says something that makes Yuuri’s expression change promptly. He gives his friend a soft, fond look and smiles, kind of a sad smile, before wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and turning around. The argument is over, at least it seems like it.

They disappear behind the bookshelves.

“His friend is Phichit,” Christophe tells him helpfully. “Thought you’d know him, since you share like, two classes with him.”

Viktor frowns. “How come _you_ know him?” He knows Phichit, yes, because he’s the one challenging their TA with his tricky questions and arguments. Viktor just… Didn’t know his name.

“He runs the LGBT+ club I’ve been telling you about. A fun guy, majors in psychology.”

Viktor isn’t sure why he feels like he needs to know more about Yuuri Katsuki. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen him before – is he new? Or maybe Viktor hasn’t paid enough attention to the people around him, which wouldn’t be surprising. Yuri always says he’s too caught up in his own world.

But there’s something, _something_ in Yuuri.

Christophe gives him a knowing look.

====

Yuri seems to be rather annoyed by the sound of Viktor’s fingers tapping the steering wheel, but doesn’t say anything, just settles on trying to burn a hole into Viktor’s head with his glare.

Viktor turns up the volume of the radio, tries to ignore the rain that’s pouring outside of the car. After a minute, Yuri has had enough and smacks his hand, it drops into his lap.

“Seems like she’s late,” Viktor says, way too happily for Yuri’s liking and he’s doing it on purpose. He wonders if he should start whistling, would Yuri’s anger be worth it.

“No shit, Sherlock,” the teen grumbles. “Her work ended fifteen minutes ago. If she’s making out with Sara right now, I swear to God I’m going to–”

“Oh, I see her!” Viktor says, and yep, there’s Mila, running towards the car with her poor excuse of an umbrella. He starts the car and she hops in, apologies flying from her mouth as she pulls the seat belt and reaches out to ruffle Yuri’s hair at the same time. Yuri rolls his eyes in annoyance but neither Viktor or Mila misses the faint smile on his lips.

“We have to stop by campus,” Yuri says then. He leans down and rummages through his bag before pulling out a blue notebook. Its corners are slightly wrinkled. “Beka lent me his physics notes and I need to give them back.”

Viktor nods and turns the car around. He, Yuri and Mila share a little apartment near campus, so it’s not that big of a deal to stop by, even if they live in the other direction.

Yuri, being 17 and going through his last year of high school, had taken some great measures to get a permission to move in with Viktor, since it also required him to switch schools. Their (adoptive) father hadn’t been ecstatic about the idea, but with some reassurance from Viktor and silent treatment from Yuri, he’d eventually given in. That’s why Viktor doesn’t live in the dorms – he needs to look after his little brother.  

Mila had tagged along somewhere after the first few months, firstly befriending Yuri and then Viktor. When she’d been done with high school, they’d found it only convenient for her to move in with them; she keeps telling them that she isn’t going to bother applying for college or university, but she had gotten a job from a bookstore nearby and then, after a while, she’d started taking free online classes. She’s only a year older than Yuri, which _he_ again isn’t none too happy about.

It’s nice, Viktor thinks. At first it had only been the two of them, but now they both have actual friends, and that really makes living in a completely strange town a lot more tolerable.

“Oh but _Yuri_ ,” Mila says in a sly voice, waking Viktor from his thoughts, “isn’t Otabek in college? And he’s lending you his physics notes, hmm? Since when have they been teaching high school stuff in college?”

Yuri groans. “Fuck off, it’s his old notebook.” He ducks his head, like he knows it’s coming, but then Mila’s hand is in his hair again, and she laughs, making a mess out of the blonde strands.

“Who keeps their old school notebooks?” Viktor asks, confused, because he remembers burning all of the things that reminded him of high school – God, it had been the worst. Moving to a whole new country when he’d been 14; sometimes the homesickness had taken over him so strong he thought he was going to die. He doesn’t want to remember that.

(Sometimes it’s still like that, he thinks about St. Petersburg and his chest feels tight.)

“Apparently Otabek does,” Mila says, nudging Yuri who flips her off with a mumble that sounds kind of like _I fucking hate you_.

When they arrive to the dorms, Yuri takes Mila’s umbrella (but doesn’t forget to complain about how shitty it is) and gets out of the car. Mila and Viktor watch as he walks inside the building, and it really isn’t a surprise when Viktor’s phone chimes ten minutes later.

_4:59 PM_

_From: Yuri_

_gonna study w beka can u come pick me up at like nine or smth thanks_

Viktor types the answer quickly ( _sure, have fun!_ ) and sends it, before looking at Mila in the rear mirror.

“Wanna grab coffee and something to eat on the way home? Seems like Yura ditched us.”

Mila smiles widely. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

====

There’s a nice little cafe near the dorms, and Mila insists on going there, because apparently they have the best coffee and _don’t forget to mention the pastries_ ! So Viktor finds a parking space that’s near the cafe and then they _run_ , escaping from the rain. The warmth of the cafe is welcome, as well as the scent of coffee that lingers in the air.

The place is almost empty, only a few people have been brave enough to defy the weather for a cup of coffee. Viktor shakes his head, much like a dog, and Mila squeals when tiny droplets of water hit her. They make their way to the counter, where a boy with a freckled nose and cheeks is ready to take their orders, a customer-friendly smile on his face. He looks about Yuri’s age, and maybe Viktor makes a mental note to ask if he knows the young barista.

Viktor orders himself a piece of chocolate cake that looks like it’s going to give him diabetes _and_ a heart attack, but he has a soft spot for sweet things. It’s not a secret, though he’s been trying to control his sweet tooth.

(He’s also been failing, failing so very hard, and the cake just proves it.)

And speaking of sweet things…

From the telltale sound of a door creaking, he knows that the cafe just got more customers. Viktor’s back is facing the door and he’s listening to Mila, who is busy complaining about the unfairness of being a retail worker. He can’t really relate to her, but he definitely agrees.  

What piques his attention, however, is the way the barista’s face lights up when he raises his head. He abandons the coffee machine he’d been cleaning, and walks up to the counter with a dazzling smile.

“Hey Yuuri, Phichit! Are you here to celebrate?”

Trying to be subtle, Viktor turns to see the two boys approaching the counter. And sure, there are Phichit and Yuuri, but–

“Yes,” Phichit says, throwing his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“No,” he says, and kicks his friend in the shin.

–the wheelchair is nowhere to be seen. Yuuri walks, on his own two legs, not even limping. And Viktor feels bad for being so curious, because he knows it’s not something that should concern him, but he just can’t help himself.

There’s something else in the boy, too. Viktor can’t place his finger on it, but something in the way he talks or smiles feels familiar. Or maybe he’s just imagining it.

“So..?” the barista, apparently Yuuri and Phichit’s friend, asks, tilting his head. Phichit opens his mouth, but Yuuri beats him to it, shoving his shoulder gently.

“Nothing’s decided yet, but Celestino said he could _try_ getting me a place from the exhibition,” he explains, emphasising the word “try” as he glances pointedly at Phichit. The boy just shrugs.

An exhibition?

(Yuuri’s an art major, he remembers.)

The conversation between those three goes on, but Viktor doesn’t have the possibility to continue eavesdropping, because then there’s a sharp tug at his sleeve. Mila looks at him with her eyebrows raised, a questioning look in her eyes, and that’s when he realises he’s been staring.

“Creep.” Her tone is amused.

“Am not,” Viktor replies.

He looks at Yuuri Katsuki once more and he still wonders.


	2. i can tell that we are gonna be friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri breaks his wheelchair, Viktor misses home and I live for Yakov being the dad Viktor never had.

Everything Viktor does, he does with determined eyes and passion. He gets an idea – you can bet your ass he’s going to do it. He doesn’t stop to think about the consequences; he’s eager, and he rushes head first into things. That’s a Viktor-esque thing to do. 

So when Mila and Christophe tease him for “being whipped” for a certain, definitely cute (not Viktor’s words, but he does agree) art major, he’s just confused. 

Viktor Nikiforov doesn’t do crushes. He’s never had a crush, because it’s always been something much bigger, like  _ love _ , even though the last time it happened he was a teenager and let’s face it, when you’re 16, you don’t know much about love. 

It’s not like he knows much about it now, either. 

====

The next day he’s walking at the park with Makkachin and he notices Yuuri sitting there, by the fountain. He has a book in his lap. 

(Viktor is  _ delighted _ .) 

(And Yuuri seems to like dogs, at least judging by how his lips curl into a smile when he sees Makkachin.

Viktor wants to get to know him better.) 

====

His wish comes true when the next week arrives.

Viktor’s fighting a losing battle with the vending machine; it had swallowed his money only a minute ago, but he still haven’t gotten his chocolate bar. He could always get chocolate (or real food) from the store, but he has his mind set on that one bar that’s stuck in the goddamn vending machine. 

It’s the moments like this when he realises that he makes his own life considerably hard for himself. 

He’s in the middle of deliberating the pros and cons of punching a hole into the glass, when he hears a loud crash from the hallway. It’s followed by quiet swearing, and curiosity taking over, Viktor leaves the machine and the chocolate and peeks around the corner. 

The first thing he notices is a wheel lying on the ground. A couple of feet away from it lies a wheelchair, with only one wheel – it doesn’t take long for him to put the pieces together and guess what happened.

When he sees the boy, though, his heart  _ leaps.  _ And because Viktor is a good person, a decent human being, he takes a step forward and asks, “do you need any help?” 

Yuuri looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor, eyes wide as he stares at Viktor with surprise written all over his face. When it starts to look like he’s not going to answer, Viktor offers his hand and smiles. Yuuri blinks once. 

“Um, sure. Yeah, thanks,” he says and lets Viktor pull him up. Now standing, he looks at the wheelchair, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. A minute passes, and maybe it’s just Viktor, but the silence feels awkward, so he decides to fill it with the obvious question that’s on his mind. 

“What happened?” 

Yuuri startles and turns around, looking still surprised as if he had forgotten Viktor was still there. Sighing, he scratches the back of his neck. 

“I guess I just… Tripped,” Yuuri says, blushing, and Viktor can’t take his eyes off of him. “The chair was already broken, I was about to go to see my friend who promised to fix it.” He hurries to say it like he’s trying to convince Viktor that it isn’t his fault. 

It’s funny. Well, not funny, but interesting. 

“Do you think he can still fix it?” Viktor asks, picking up the loose wheel. From the corner of his eye he can see Yuuri picking up the chair. 

“Yeah. He’s– he’s good at fixing things.” Viktor can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about Phichit, which is stupid, because Yuuri probably has other friends too. 

“Where does he live? I can offer you a ride so you don’t have to carry these,” he says, and once again Yuuri’s eyes widen with some sort of shock. 

“Ah– No, no! There’s no need, he’s a college student too, see. Um. His room is just down the hall.” For reasons unknown to Viktor, he seems to be embarrassed; averting his eyes, he balances the broken chair against his hip. 

Well, the hallway seems suddenly awfully long to walk alone. 

“You’re chair is in two pieces now anyway,” Viktor says, giving the boy a wide grin. “It’s easier with two people.”

Yuuri exhales, a tiny smile tugging the corners of his lips. “Okay. Thanks.”

Viktor itches to ask about the wheelchair, but he doesn’t. It’s none of his business. So instead of that, he thinks of all the other ways he can get to know Yuuri better during this short trip down the hallway. 

“I’m Viktor,” he says, figuring that introducing yourself is probably the best way to start. He’s usually better than this at making friends, but Yuuri keeps looking at him like he’s expecting Viktor to grow five heads or something. Viktor doesn’t want to scare him away. 

“Yuuri,” is the quiet answer he gets, and Viktor almost says “I know.”  _ Almost _ . 

The conversation stops there, at least for a while. 

“I– Hm,” Yuuri starts, and Viktor can feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. “This might sound weird, but... I’ve seen you around a few times with– with Christophe, and I was– What’s your major?” he finally asks, seemingly frustrated with himself. 

It’s absolutely endearing, and Viktor wants to do something stupid like squish his cheeks.

“Law,” he replies instead, and then adds: “You?” 

(He knows the answer already, of course, but for some reason he still wants to hear it.) 

Yuuri hums. “Art.” 

“What kind of art? Like, painting or sculpting or..?” 

He notices how Yuuri relaxes slightly, the tension in his shoulders dissipating, how the smile on his face doesn’t look so forced anymore. 

“Mostly drawing. I use a lot of charcoal and the just plain pencils.” He pauses to wrinkle his nose to keep his glasses in place, since his both hands are occupied holding the chair. “I’ve started to paint too, though, experimenting with oil and acrylics. I also like watercolours, but I don’t think I–” He cuts himself off suddenly. “Um, yeah. Sorry. I was babbling.” 

Viktor honestly doesn’t mind at all – clearly art is something Yuuri’s passionate about, and he likes it when people are passionate about something. He likes the fire in their eyes. It’s oddly comforting. 

He waves his hand dismissively. “I wish I could see your art. I bet you’re really good.” Maybe he’s pushing his luck a little, but it’s only  _ a little _ .

Yuuri opens his mouth, but no words come out. He tilts his head, trying to hide the blush creeping onto his face, and Viktor congratulates himself on not messing this up. 

“There’s – if you want – an art exhibition and... Some of my pieces will be there,” Yuuri says. “If– if you wanna come.” 

Viktor doesn’t hesitate at all when he gives his answer. Obviously he’s going to go, maybe he could even drag Yuri and Mila with him – well, Mila at least. He’d probably have to bribe Yuri. Then, because he’s easily distracted like that, he starts to wonder if Christophe is going too. His friend hadn’t talked about exhibitions recently, though. Usually he didn’t get to have his own art on display, mostly because it was a tad too explicit for the family friendly exhibitions. Viktor understands where the professors are coming from, but can’t help thinking that it’s sort of unfair, because he’s seen Christophe’s paintings and knows that he’s talented. Like, Talented with a capital T. 

Yuuri gives him a shy smile when Viktor enthusiastically tells him that of course he’s coming, no doubt about it. And then they stop, right before one of the many doors, because the hallway wasn’t so long after all. 

(Viktor tries to hide his disappointment.) 

After knocking on the door, Yuuri turns to Viktor. His cheeks are coloured in a lovely shade of red, and Viktor is happy to know that he blushes so easily.

“So, thanks for helping me with the chair,” he says, rocking on his heels. He’s still holding the chair, Viktor realises,  _ how aren’t his arms tired already _ ? 

He doesn’t voice this question, but says, “yeah, no problem. I’ll see you around, Yuuri.” 

Around and hopefully at the exhibition. He crosses his fingers. 

(As he’s walking away, however, he remembers that he doesn’t know when or where the exhibition is held. 

Oh well. 

He just has to ask Christophe.) 

====

Viktor flinches when Yuri kicks his leg,  _ hard _ , under the table, forcing him to look up. When he does, he notices that everyone at the table is staring at him. Frowning, he wipes his mouth, but nope, he hasn’t been drooling. Is there something on his face? He starts to search for his phone, and that’s when Christophe sighs. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Looking good as always,” he says like he knows what Viktor’s thinking. Maybe he does. Viktor wouldn’t put it past him to have some sort of psychic powers. 

Yuri rolls his eyes at Viktor’s dumbfounded face. “You kept smiling and giggling to yourself like the fucking creep you are,” he says. Sara snorts.

“I’m not a creep!” Viktor exclaims, remembering how Mila had accused him of being one at the cafe. “Am I not allowed to smile?” 

“Nah, it looks weird. Don’t like it,” Yuri answers nonchalantly. Viktor groans, and being the mature adult he is, sticks his tongue out at his brother. 

“No but seriously, Viktor, what is up? You’ve been acting strange the whole day.” Mila leans her chin on Sara’s shoulder, cocks her eyebrow expectedly. 

Viktor could argue that no, he hasn’t been “acting strange,” but then again, there isn’t any point in arguing with Mila. And she’s probably right, now that he thinks about it. Gazing out of the window like he’s in a romantic movie definitely doesn’t count as acting normal either. 

So that’s how he ends up telling about his encounter with Yuuri – reluctantly, if he can add – and by the time he’s finished, everyone looks way too excited for him. Everyone except Yuri and Otabek, that is. Yuri is rolling his eyes so hard he  _ has _ to feel dizzy, and Otabek just looks mildly disinterested as always. Viktor isn’t surprised by any of the reactions, to be honest. 

(What a weird group of friends he has.) 

As Mila, Sara and Christophe start to talk about all the possible outcomes the exhibition might have – Viktor isn’t sure if he heard the word “wedding” or not – he glances around the cafeteria. 

Yuuri is nowhere to be seen. 

====

Adult life is worse than what he’d imagined. Much worse. He isn’t even a proper adult yet. 

“Proper,” as in “not adult enough to drink alcohol.”

As a child he had held such high expectations for being an adult – living on your own, doing whatever you want – that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of it being close to nightmare-ish. 

Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating. But sitting on his bed, clutching his phone in his hand and trying to decide if he should call his father just because he misses him doesn’t feel like being an adult.

When Yakov asks, Viktor just tells him he wanted to know how he was doing. 

They talk about Viktor and Yuri, about how school is going for both of them, what they’ve been up to. Yakov wants to hear about their friends (Christophe, Mila, that Kazakh boy who’s in Yuri’s every Instagram photo), how they are. Viktor makes sure that Yakov has remembered to take his medicine every day and that he hasn’t been pushing himself too hard, and laughs when he hears Yakov mumble something about  _ overprotective sons _ . 

“We should Skype with Georgi sometime,” Viktor suggests, because it’s been a long time since he has heard of his friend who still actually lives in St. Petersburg. Yakov goes suddenly quiet. “Dad?” 

“About that, Vitya… I was going to call you someday this week,” Yakov starts and it does not sound promising. Viktor goes stiff. “I’m planning on flying to Russia on the 14th, just to see how things are going there.” 

Viktor tries very hard not to get his hopes up. “Just you? Or… are you going to take Yuri and me with you?” He holds his breath, his free hand gripping the sheets. 

“That’s… I’m sorry. You and Yuri have school, right? Especially Yuri. He can’t really miss any days on his last year,” Yakov says, and Viktor releases all the air from his lungs. Yeah. It’d still been worth asking. 

“You’re right,” he says, maybe a little too cheerfully. “Say hi to Georgi for me, okay? We can go all together in summer.” 

When the call has ended, Viktor gives himself ten minutes before pulling himself together and getting up.

(He isn’t one to mope around, after all.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, you can find me on tumblr @ [caeruleusastrum](https://caeruleusastrum.tumblr.com)
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this!! i loved the feedback the first chapter got, y'all are such babes <3


	3. a guy that i'd kinda be into

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The art exhibition, blooming friendships and siblings bonding. Good things.

On the October 14th Viktor stands in front of the art gallery doors, shifting his weight from one foot to another nervously – well, not  _ nervously _ . He isn’t nervous, no, because he doesn’t have any reason to be nervous. He’s just… Mildly worried about messing up, but that’s just normal He really wants to become friends with Yuuri, even if he isn’t sure why. 

“Are you going to open the door, or..?” Christophe asks, because he’s the only one who agreed to come, and Viktor huffs before yanking both of the doors open. 

(Being unnecessarily dramatic runs in the family.) 

Considering his best friend is an art major, Viktor hasn’t been to events like this often. It’s not a problem, though; he’s always been kind of a social butterfly. He has natural charm, according to Mila. And, well, he’d at least like to think that’s true.

And now he really needs that natural charm. 

Viktor spots Yuuri at the back of the room, talking with two other people. To his surprise, he recognises the the boy standing next to Yuuri as the barista from Mila’s favourite cafe, but then again, he’s Yuuri’s friend so. Not so shocking. 

They make their way over to where Yuuri is standing under the fluorescent lights. The barista boy is the first one to notice them, tapping Yuuri’s shoulder, and he turns around. He looks surprised, which in turn doesn’t surprise  _ Viktor _ , but then he waves with a tiny smile and Viktor’s heart skips a beat. 

“ _ Yuu _ -ri,” Christophe greets and slaps Yuuri on the back, knocking the wind out of him. “Long time no see.” 

Yuuri straightens his back, adjusting his glasses. “Yesterday in the art history class, but nice to see you too,” he answers. His friends look mildly concerned for him as he suddenly starts coughing. 

Christophe patiently waits for the coughing to stop. “I heard you’ve become friends with Viktor.” Yuuri blushes comically when he winks at him, and Viktor wants to facepalm his hand through his head.

“It’s– it’s not like tha– He helped me with my chair,” Yuuri stammers. Christophe laughs, clearly enjoying teasing him way too much. Viktor watches their interaction and tries to resist the childish urge to pout. He hadn’t realised they knew each other this well already, and it makes him definitely  _ not  _ jealous, because jealousy is an ugly emotion and all that. 

“Um, Yuuri?” the other one of Yuuri’s friends says. They both look confused which is probably pretty fair, “you mind introducing us, or..?” 

“Ah– Yeah, right.” Yuuri gives them an apologetic look. “Chris shares some classes with me, he’s an art major too. And this is Viktor, he– I bumped into him last week when the chair broke.” 

For some strange reason Viktor really likes the way Yuuri says his name; soft, slightly accented. Cute. 

“And here are Guang-Hong and Leo.” Yuuri gestures towards the two boys, and Viktor is glad that the barista boy has now a name other than, well, The Barista Boy. 

Christophe then asks Yuuri to show them where his art is, and a little shyly Yuuri takes them to a room that’s walls are almost covered in monochrome charcoal drawings; mostly portraits, drawings of captured moments. A ballerina tying her shoes, a young boy reading a book. 

“You’re really talented,” Viktor tells him, enchanted by the way he blushes all the way to the tips of his ears. Seriously, Yuuri blushes so much it can’t be healthy, and this is only the second time Viktor’s talked with him. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri says in a quiet voice, tilting his head to hide his face, and Viktor chuckles. 

(Later Phichit joins them, and when Yuuri helpfully introduces Viktor to him, Viktor doesn’t miss the odd glance he gets from Phichit.

He doesn’t think about it too much.) 

====

“Are you going to the Halloween party?”

Yuuri raises his head, brushing the few wild strands of hair behind his ear with charcoal-smudged fingers. He blinks. 

“Probably not?” It sounds like a question, unsure, like everything Yuuri does. Cautious. 

There’s something that looks like permanent marker on his cheek, dark green prominent against the pale skin. Almost sickeningly pale, Viktor thinks. Yuuri looks worn out – the dark circles and chapped lips only add to it.

“M’not really about the drinking and stuff,” Yuuri mutters as he continues sketching. 

They’ve been running into each other at campus,  _ completely by accident _ . Viktor may have been asking Christophe about the classes he shares with Yuuri, but it’s not like he’s been trying to... Consciously be at the same places at the same time. Nope, not at all. 

Today they’re sitting in the cafeteria, waiting for Yuuri’s friends. Viktor’s phone buzzes but he ignores it, even though he promised to pick Yuri up from the dance studio. 

(Yes, he’s being a shitty brother, he knows it.) 

“You don’t have to drink,” he tries. 

“Hm,” is the only answer he gets. 

==== 

Yuuri doesn’t come to the school on the next day. 

Viktor sits next to Phichit in the criminal psychology class. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, but just gives Viktor his usual cheery smile. 

“I didn’t know you and Yuuri were friends,” Phichit says twenty minutes into the lecture. His tone is unreadable, and makes Viktor frown. 

“I don’t know if we are,” he says, and it’s the truth. They talk occasionally. He doesn’t know much about Yuuri, except that he’s  _ really  _ good at drawing and from Japan. “But I’d like to be his friend.” 

Phichit doesn’t say anything, just taps his pen against his notebook. Then, 

“He’s sick today.” 

And strangely it feels like Viktor’s just gotten his approval. 

====

Next time they meet, Yuuri doesn’t look that pleased to see Viktor. 

It might have something to do with the chair. 

It’s intact this time, with Yuuri sitting in it. His face is even paler than before as he rolls himself out of the lecture hall, and he almost seems like he’s in pain. But Viktor is raised to be a gentleman, so he doesn’t ask about it, just offers his help. 

“You don’t have to,” Yuuri says when Viktor comes to push the chair. 

“It’s okay, give yourself a rest,” Viktor assures, and because he’s feeling bold, “wanna go out for coffee or something?” 

_ As friends _ , he’s about to add, doesn’t want Yuuri to assume anything, of course. Or they don’t have to go at all, Yuuri’s probably tired– 

“Yea– yeah, okay. Not coffee, but tea is good.” 

They go to the cafe where Guang-Hong works, because maybe a familiar place would make Yuuri more comfortable. He seems happy with Viktor’s decision to just ignore the chair, though any attempt of small talk only dances around the question Viktor’s itching to ask. 

The tension eases when they arrive to the empty cafe. Guang-Hong is there to greet them from his place behind the counter, ready to take their orders. 

“The chair works fine now?” he asks as he prepares a pot of tea. Viktor is slightly taken aback by how casually he brings it up. 

“It does,” Yuuri says, nibbling on his cookie. “I think I’ll have to find a way to pay Leo back.” 

“He’s just happy to help you!” Guang-Hong says with a wave of his hand. “Don’t stress it.” He pours the tea into the mug and brings it to the table, and then goes to get Viktor’s coffee. After a sweet “you’re welcome,” and a smile, he disappears to the back room. 

“Leo was the one who fixed your chair?” Viktor asks. Yuuri nods, testing the tea and then deciding it’s too hot. 

“Huh.”

Viktor tries to come up with different conversation topics, something funny and light and not awkward. He racks his brain, but nothing feels good enough, so he just has to settle. 

“How did you become friends with Phichit?” 

(He really is settling, hard.) 

Yuuri’s eyes are fixated on the cookie that he’s now dipping into his tea. “Hmm. I got to know him in the first year when we were roommates,” he says, bringing the cookie to his mouth and taking a wary bite. “One night he just started ranting about this one show that I’ve watched too, and we just… Bonded over that, I guess.” 

Viktor sees his chance and he takes it. “Oh? What show?”

Yuuri glances at him. “Fullmetal Alchemist.” 

“Brotherhood or the original?” Viktor asks, because he knows these things; the amount of anime he and Yuri have watched together is probably concerning. 

“Well actually,” Yuuri starts, “the rant was about the differences between Brotherhood and the original.” He’s more relaxed now, and there’s something in his eyes, something that tells Viktor that this is a topic he enjoys talking about. 

(Bingo.) 

“I’m intrigued,” Viktor says, leaning his chin on his hand, and just listens as Yuuri starts talking about the pros and cons of the 2003 version of Fullmetal Alchemist.

It’s nice. Viktor could definitely get used to this. 

====

“So, Beka says I can’t come to the Halloween party,” Yuri says as Viktor prepares the dinner. Sighing, he slumps against the backrest of the sofa, and Viktor looks at him over his shoulder with a (hopefully) stern expression.

“He’s right, you can’t.” He picks up a few grapes from the salad bowl and pops them into his mouth. “You’re not even eighteen. You’re like, underage to be underage.” 

“You’re not making any sense,” Yuri points out and tries to reach for the grapes. Viktor gives the bowl to him.

“Also, dad specifically told me not to sneak you into wild college parties.” 

Yuri scowls. “I just wanted to see JJ get shitfaced.” 

Viktor shakes his head, but can’t hide his smile. He checks the pasta and the gravy, throws in some spices and turns around, wiping his hands on his apron. Still an hour until Mila’s work shift ends, and even after that she might not come home, if she has some plans with Sara. 

“Dad called, by the way,” Yuri says after a few minutes of silence. “Said that he’s coming home next week.” 

Viktor doesn’t look at him, too busy juggling apples. “Anything else?” 

“No, not really. Georgi and Anya have broken up. I also might’ve mentioned that you’re trying to woo some weird artist boy from school.” 

One of the apples falls onto the floor, and Viktor bends down to pick it up, trying his best to ignore Yuri’s judging glare. 

“I’m not trying to  _ woo _ , him, what the hell,” he mutters. “I want to be his friend, that’s all.” 

Yuri doesn’t look too convinced. “That’s not at all suspicious,” he says through a mouthful of grapes. Viktor gives him a playful swat on the back of his head for forgetting manners.

“Maybe, but I do want to just get to know him for now.”

Yuri only rolls his eyes. 

They eat on the sofa since Mila isn’t home – it’s kind of her sofa, and technically no one’s allowed to eat on it. But Viktor and Yuri are careful to not drop anything on the cushions, and at least thus far they’ve gotten away with it without her noticing. 

“Wanna play some Mario Kart?” Yuri asks after they’ve finished eating. Viktor plops back down onto the sofa and grins as he grabs the controllers from the coffee table. 

“If I win, you’re doing my half of the chores for three days.” 

“You’re cleaning Potya’s litter box,” Yuri retorts. 

Viktor tosses the other controller to him, and he catches it effortlessly. “You’re on.” 

(When Mila arrives home, it’s Viktor who’s scrubbing the litter box clean.

But it’s okay.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i'm so sorry this chapter was delayed!! i don't know if i have good excuses but uhh writer's block and school??? anyway here's the new chappie and i also might. rewrite the second chapter because i don't really.....like it. hhhh writing is too hard,
> 
> also changed the tags a little!


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